


Salvation of A Sinner

by Evoxine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Character Death, M/M, a lot of salivating over sins, lacks a lot of romance tbh, some members are portrayed as antagonists!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 11:19:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11782077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Evoxine
Summary: "Your sins fit you like a glove." – Oh Sehun.In which Kim Jongin, having hit rock bottom, summons a demon by the name of Oh Sehun to aid him in an act of revenge.





	Salvation of A Sinner

_“Once a contract has been established, you will not be able to break it.”_

_“Do it.”_

_“We will be bound together until I have served my purpose, and until I consume your soul. Is that clear?”_

_“I believe I said, you damn demon, to_ do it _.”_

_“Very well.”_

 

 

 

  
The warehouse is ablaze, and Sehun can hear anguished screams echoing around the peeling walls as clear as day. He can smell the acrid souls appearing one by one as their human vessels die a painful death behind the doors sealed by dark magic, but none of them manage to pique his interest.

Jongin, his new contractee, is limp in his arms. There’s dried blood covering almost every inch of his body, tattered clothes hanging from his limbs. Face gaunt, ribs showing – Sehun guesses that he hasn’t had a solid meal in weeks. But that’s okay, Sehun thinks, scarlet eyes glowing in anticipation. He plans on making sure Jongin is very well fed over the course of their contract. After all, a healthy human means a tasty soul.

The pair emerge from a wall of fire unscathed, Jongin still peacefully unconscious in Sehun’s grasp.

“Now then,” Sehun muses to himself, pausing at the edge of the small cliff. He rests his weight on a foot covered with a heeled shoe. “Where shall we build our home?”

 

 

 

  
News of the safe return of Kim Jongin, 26 years old, ringleader of one of the most feared gangs in Seoul – Exodus –, spread like wildfire through the dark and dingy streets of the criminal world. His kidnapping had caused an uproar; other gangs scrambled to try and claim Jongin’s position in the hierarchy, but Jongin’s sudden return saw those plans fall through.

Now, other gangs watch from afar as Jongin, weaker and frailer than he’s ever been, walks into a brand new house with a tall, silver-haired man by his side. Right before the newest addition to Jongin’s inner circle closes the door, he smiles, a sinister curve of pale lips. It sends an icy shudder down the spines of those who are watching.

Inside, Jongin collapses on the couch.

“Where’d this house come from?” He asks, an arm thrown over his eyes to block out the light.

“I conjured it,” Sehun answers, leaning against the closed door. “Moved everything from your old residence over here. Don’t worry, everyone around here thinks that this house has always been here. They think that they’ve just never noticed it before.”

“I recommend you do things the human way,” Jongin says, wincing as he shifts to his side. “There are some things you can’t lie your way through, no matter how magical of a being you are.”

“Of course,” Sehun says. Jongin cracks an eye open at the tone.

“Don’t patronise me.”

“I would never.”

Scoffing, Jongin sits up with a strangled sigh. “I have a job for you.”

 

 

 

  
Over the next couple of weeks, the pair get to know each other on a deeper level.

Sehun learns that Jongin loves being in charge, barking orders here and there since the second he wakes up to the second he falls asleep. He learns that Jongin loves to eat fried food and hates candies, learns that Jongin needs to have a hot bath every night if he wants a dreamless sleep. He learns that Jongin is an insanely good shot with a handgun but is absolute trash with rifles. He learns that Jongin only sleeps on the left side of the bed and has to wear slippers around the house, even if the floor is carpeted.

Jongin makes Sehun pull his shoulder length hair up into a ponytail, makes Sehun wear black leather gloves in addition to his suit – “What normal human being has long, pointed, red nails?” –, and makes Sehun change his eye colour from scarlet to a boring brown. He makes Sehun get rid of the heeled boots that is common to demonkind, thrusting a pair of normal (but expensive) dress shoes in the demon’s face instead.

Jongin learns that Sehun knows how to cook absolutely anything on the planet; after a few days of leaving Sehun to his own devices in the kitchen, Jongin finds himself pleasantly surprised. He’s since stopped asking for specific dishes unless he really craves it. Jongin learns that Sehun can run from one end of the house to the other in less than five seconds, and that Sehun can lift the couch with one hand to clean under it. He learns that Sehun uses a personalised sword (that he conjures out of thin air) in battle, and that Sehun refuses to use anything else. He learns that Sehun is ridiculously good at shampooing hair, and that Sehun is able to regulate his own body temperature. The demon, as Jongin comes to realise, is competent at _everything_.

 

 

 

  
“I’ve found you a sniper,” Sehun says one evening, walking into the study with a mug of warm tea and a few biscuits. “He’s quite skilled at what he does; and I’ve met a lot of snipers over the course of my lifetime.”

The day Jongin had returned, he’d told Sehun to fire each and every last one of his employees. He didn’t trust anyone anymore, and wanted to start anew. Exodus is officially on a hiatus, but in all honesty, Jongin doesn’t have any desire to re-establish the gang. After all, he is destined to die sooner rather than later.

“And your brother wishes to pay a visit,” Sehun finishes, setting the platter down on the side of the desk.

“If you deem the sniper worthy,” Jongin says, scribbling away, “then feel free to hire him. I give you full discretion in terms of my staff. In terms of my brother… tell him he has an hour next Monday.”

“Very well.” With a bow, Sehun exits the room.

 

 

 

  
Sehun hires four people in total within three days.  
  
Do Kyungsoo, a sniper; Zhang Yixing, an expert with poisonous darts; Park Chanyeol, a wielder of a customised, fully automatic shotgun; and Byun Baekhyun, a black belt in Hapkido who favours the use of daggers in battle.

“I doubt we’ll need more than these four for what you’re intending to do,” Sehun says, perched on the edge of Jongin’s bed as he rubs out the knots in Jongin’s back with warm, oiled fingers.

“Well, we don’t need anyone apart from you,” Jongin points out, voice muffled by his face in his pillow, “but that won’t work if I want to keep up appearances.”

Sehun smirks, the pads of his thumbs pressing down around Jongin’s scapulas.

 

 

 

  
_The pain that’s crackling along his skull is almost electrifying. He registers sinister laughter for a split second before everything goes black._

_Red hot pain flares up along his abdomen, and he jolts awake to the curved point of a dagger carving its way down his stomach. It cuts deep enough to coax out a scream from his dry throat, but not deep enough to kill._

_“What did you say to the police?”_

_The voice comes from somewhere behind him, but he can’t muster up the energy to turn around._

_“What the fuck are you talking about,” he spits, bound wrists straining against their restraints. The dagger licks fire up his flesh. “I don’t even know who the fuck you are.”_

_Someone grabs his hair and yanks his head backwards._

_“You told the cops the time and place of our next arms shipment,” a voice snarls into his ear. The man controlling the eager dagger straightens, and he catches a glimpse of a snake tattooed up the man’s neck._

_“I don’t even keep you guys on my radar,” he answers, “why the fuck would I care about your shipment?”_

_“Because you have one coming in a few days, don’t you? You want the cops away from yours, so you directed them to ours.”_

_“Are you fucking serious? I’ve never done that in the past eight years I’ve run my operations. Why the hell would I start now?”_

_The hand in his hair shoves forward, and his neck bends painfully at the force. A whip cracks through the air and splits the skin on his back open. He tries to scream in pain, but nothing comes out._

_“Throw him in a cage,” comes the order shortly after. “If he even dares to move a single inch, drench his body in alcohol.”_

Jongin jerks awake to the feeling of alcohol burning through the wounds on his body. Gasping, his fingers claw their way up and down his skin, feeling for the stickiness of blood, the clamminess of cooled sweat. But all he feels is the raised skin of his scars and the Faustian seal thrumming on his chest, lying atop his pounding heart.

 

 

 

  
In his own room, Sehun lies awake in bed, the seal on his own chest burning. He can feel Jongin’s fear, his discomfort, his embarrassment. It’s nothing new; Jongin’s been having nightmares regularly ever since Sehun had responded to his desperate cries for help in that warehouse. But Jongin has never called for Sehun during these nightmares, so Sehun doesn’t have a reason to enter his room.

Sehun waits patiently, feels as Jongin’s pulse slows, as cold sweat starts to evaporate, as he starts to fall back asleep.

When Jongin’s finally fallen back into a (thankfully) dreamless sleep, Sehun sheds his jacket and shirt before stepping out into the hallway and making his way up to the roof. The streets are quiet, no movements in the alleyways aside from the occasional rat. With a pleased sigh, Sehun allows his eyes to return to their original state, and wills his wings to rise to the surface of his skin. Bones shift to make way for the appendages, and skin parts to let them through. With a slight jump, Sehun soars into the night sky and continues on his mission to find the person who had betrayed Kim Jongin and left him for dead.

 

 

 

  
Jongin’s brother comes the next day. The doorbell rings at 9 o'clock sharp, and Sehun opens the door with a bow.

“You must be Jongin’s brother. Jongin is in the study,” he says, “if you’ll follow me?”

He raps his knuckles against the heavy mahogany door three times. Jongin’s voice calls out a faint _come in_ , and Sehun pushes the door open.

“Your brother’s here,” he says, standing aside and allowing the shorter man to enter.

“You’ve got a nice place. Who’s the new hire?” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder at Sehun.

“You live in a mansion, Jongdae. This is but a tool shed to you. And that’s Sehun; he’s my new bodyguard.” Jongin drops his pen and leans back in his chair. “Why are you here? I doubt it’s to interrogate me on my men.”

“I heard that you were back,” Jongdae replies, taking a seat. “I wanted to check up on you, see how you’re doing.”

“Are you sure you didn’t just want to see if I was on my deathbed and potentially get me to sign off all my assets to you and our dear cousins?”

There’s a tense moment of silence. Sehun stands in the shadows on the room, an arched eyebrow raised. Jongin’s eyes hold no trace of amusement, and neither does the set of Jongdae’s jaw.

“I’m kidding,” Jongin says eventually, lip curling. “Your business should be flourishing, no? People love a good fuck.”

Jongdae sighs. “Actually, it’s not doing too well. Due to all the dating apps that have come up over the last few years, people have been shifting to using said apps instead of coming to brothels. It’s been quite a blow to the business.”

“Well, why don’t you follow where the market takes you? Make an app.”

Jongdae takes a moment to mull that suggestion over in his head. “I could.”

Snorting, Jongin returns to his work.

“If you’re done checking up on me, feel free to leave. I have a lot of work to catch up on.”

Jongdae stands, but he stays in front of Jongin’s desk until his younger brother looks up slowly.

“Yes?”

“Do you know who it is? The people who used you as their scapegoat?”

Something dark clouds Jongin’s eyes. “No. Not yet. But I will find them, and I will kill them.”

Across the room, Sehun runs the flat of his tongue over the sharp points of his canines in silent glee.

“I’m glad you’re alright, little brother.”

With that, Jongdae leaves the room, door closing softly behind him.

 

 

 

  
_“Jongin? Oh god, Jongin – wait, I’m going to get you out of here, okay? Fuck, where’s –”_

_Jongin stirs, a familiar voice tickling his senses. Who’s here? As he regains consciousness, he can feel the coldness of the metal bars seep through the thin cloth over his body, chilling him to the bone. A foot kicks at the empty bowl in the corner, and his joints scream in pain and discomfort as he shifts. He’s been stuck in this cage for a couple of weeks now; he wonders what it would feel like to be able to stretch out his whole body._

_“Who –”_

_“Shhh, keep quiet.”_

_Twisting around with great difficulty, Jongin’s gaze lands on a face that he hasn’t seen in years._

_“Taemin?”_

_His childhood best friend, the one person he’s cut out of his life because he didn’t want to drag him down, the one person in his life he knew would go on to do great things._

_Taemin gives him a small smile before turning his attention back to the padlock on Jongin’s cage._

_“I’m going to have to shoot this,” Taemin mumbles, a hand drifting to the holster on his hip._

_Ah, life works in mysterious ways, As Jongin established himself as one of the most respected gang leaders in Seoul, Taemin went on to climb the ranks of the police force._

_“You can’t,” Jongin rasps. “They’ll hear you.”_

_“My backup is on their way,” Taemin assures him, pulling out his handgun. “Move back, Jongin.”_

_“You can’t,” Jongin insists. “There’re too many of them. It’s too dangerous, Taemin. Please leave.”_

_“I can’t leave. It’s my job,” Taemin tells him. “I’ve been on this task force for months, trying to track down the Vipers and nail them for trafficking firearms. And I’ve finally done it.”_

_Jongin watches as Taemin rises to his feet and aims the barrel of the gun at the padlock._

_But just as Taemin is about to pull the trigger, Jongin feels something warm and wet splatter against his cheek. The padlock stays securely fastened, and Jongin stares in horror as red blooms across the whiteness of Taemin’s shirt._

_Through the darkness comes the glinting steel of a silencer attached to a gun._

_“Sorry about your friend there.” A sneer. “Guess it’s too late to thank him for the heads up.”_

_Jongin doesn’t even have the energy in him to scream. The last thing he remembers of his friend are his open, dead eyes. What a fucking reunion._

 

 

 

  
“I may have a lead,” Sehun says, standing in the shadows. The curtains are drawn, and the table lamp by Jongin’s bedside is the only source of light in the room.

Jongin himself is getting ready for bed, tossing his shirt into the hamper before hunching over the sink to brush his teeth. With his free hand, he gestures for Sehun to continue.

“There is a newly established gang in the South; they’re involved with human trafficking.”

A noise of disgust escapes from Jongin’s throat. He spits out the toothpaste and rinses out his mouth. Sehun smiles in amusement.

“Is that not something _you_ engage in?”

Jongin turns to glare at Sehun, anger burning in his eyes. “I smuggle people over the border for a fixed monetary price. I do not use them. Once they pay me, their trip is guaranteed. After they get to their destination, they will have no more ties to me. Tell me again, _demon_ , how that is considered the same thing?”

“My apologies,” Sehun says, bowing. The smile stays put on his face, however. “You are quite right.”

Snorting, Jongin steps out of his jeans and boxers. Sehun’s gaze lands on the multitude of scars scattered across the man’s body. He’s gained back most of the weight he’s lost, and muscles are starting to show again. But scars don’t disappear this easily.

The shower turns on, and Sehun busies himself with placing a fresh towel and a pair of ironed boxers on the marble surface by the sink.

It’s a quick shower, lasting barely five minutes.

“Pass me –” Jongin pauses, catching sight of the towel.

“The number of times I’ve been contracted to be a servant,” Sehun quips, leaning against the doorframe, “is quite uncountable.”

“I didn’t ask you to be my servant,” Jongin says sharply, drying himself off. “I asked you to protect me.”

“Indeed. But it is in _my_ best interest to make sure you are taken care of.”

Jongin raises an eyebrow.

“Makes your soul that much more delectable.”

 

 

 

  
It’s nighttime, and the streets are as dark as Sehun’s heart. They walk down alleyways in absolute silence, Jongin trailing after Sehun as the latter navigates through the roads with perfect vision. If it had been Jongin leading, he probably would have walked into ten walls by now.

“They call themselves Pandora?” Jongin asks, unimpressed. “What a stupid name.”

He stares at the scrawled word horribly spray painted across the steel frame. Next to him, Sehun chuckles lowly.

Sehun flattens his palm against the steel door of the old military bunker and pushes. The sheet of metal gives way as easily as a sheet of paper would. With a loud, resonating thud, the door falls to the ground and shatters the temporary peace of the night.

It doesn’t take long for shouts to start erupting. The pair stand casually by the entrance, Jongin positioned safely behind Sehun’s imposing frame. Unsurprisingly, the first thing they see is not a face looming out of the darkness, but a speeding bullet. With ease, Sehun catches the bullet between his thumb and forefinger – smiling, he lets it drop to the ground with a barely audible clink.

“What the _fuck_ –”

“Shoot again!”

“Empty the mag!”

Jongin’s instantly shoved aside with a gloved hand, and as his shoulder hits the cobblestone street, he hears several guns start firing at once. He can’t see Sehun from his current position, but judging by the frantic shouting inside, he’s pretty sure his personal demon is doing just fine.

He waits a few minutes, listening to pained shouts and things crashing about inside the bunker. Then, Sehun sticks his head out, silvery ponytail still neat and perched high on his head. The hilt of his sword rests by his hip, but it gradually fades away into nothingness.

“All clear.”

A line of eight men, all tied up, gagged, and on their knees, greet Jongin as he enters. Some of them stare up at him at him in fear, while others seem ready to fight to the death. Jongin feels the corners of his mouth tighten.

He motions for Sehun to take the gag off one person.

“Where’s your boss?”

“Out of the country,” is the nervous answer. “He won’t be back until next Wednesday.”

“Has he had any exchanges with the Vipers?”

Sehun takes a casual step forward and the man flinches so hard he falls over onto his side.

“No,” he squeaks. “Our business doesn’t overlap with theirs.”

“Does he know anyone who does, then?”

“There’s a man; I don’t know his name. But he sells customers to the Vipers and vice versa.”

Jongin gazes down at the man lying at his feet and mulls over the new bit of information.

Then, he turns to Sehun. “Kill all of them but this one. I want him to report back to his boss. I’ll wait for you outside.”

“Very well.”

 

 

 

  
“Where are your gloves?”

Sehun looks down at his bare hands.

“Ah, they got a little stained.”

Jongin snorts and starts walking away from the bunker, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

“You have two jobs. One, find where they’re hiding their goods before the boss returns and release them. Two, find me the man that poor fucker talked about.”

Nodding, Sehun starts to take off his jacket.

“What are you doing?”

“I need the advantage of height if I want to finish the first job. I need my wings.”

Jongin smacks Sehun on the side of his head. “Not right now, you dumbass. Tomorrow. Right now, we’re going home. I need some fucking sleep.”

 

 

 

_Jongin’s lost count of how many days he’s been kept locked up in his cage, taken out every other day only to be bombarded by the same damn questions and beaten up by the same damn people._

_The gang’s long moved out of their old hideout. They’re now in a large warehouse, the space mostly void of objects and furniture save for lights, a table, a fridge, and a dusty couch. Of course, and Jongin’s cage tucked away in a corner._

_There’s always someone around, but at the point, Jongin doesn’t care anymore._

_That is, until he starts getting nightmares of Taemin dying over and over in front of him, blood a shocking red against the deathly paleness of his skin._

_It gets to a point where pools of blood is printed behind Jongin’s eyelids. Every time he closes his eyes for more than a few seconds, the red blossoms. He swears, on all the wounds on his body, that he’ll take revenge for both his best friend’s death and his own humiliation._

_He swears it to himself, day after day._

_Then:_

_“Well well well. If it isn’t someone who’s willing to give up his soul for revenge.”_

_The first time Jongin hears Sehun’s voice, he thinks he’s hallucinating. So he opens his eyes slowly and reluctantly, expecting to see no one in front of him. Except, he comes face to face with a gleaming pair of blood-red eyes, shaped oddly like a cat’s. A sharp nose leads to a wide smile with equally sharp teeth, framed by a pair of very supple, very red lips. The facial features are shrouded by wisps of black smoke._

_The first time Jongin lays eyes on Sehun, he thinks he’s hallucinating. So he reaches up and attempts to swat the vision away. Except, the back of his hand lands solidly against something warm._

_The grin widens._

_“I have a special service I can offer you,” Sehun purrs, the smoke gradually getting thicker. “Would you like to hear my proposal?”_

 

 

 

  
A few days later, Sehun walks into the den with a plate of food that he places in front of Jongin.

“I’ve released them,” he says, straightening. “Can’t guarantee their safety or their future though.”

Jongin moves his gaze from the television screen up to Sehun’s face.

“We’re not responsible for either of that,” he says, shrugging. Spearing a honey glazed shrimp with his fork, he drops it into his mouth and chews.

“Quite right,” Sehun agrees, turning to leave.

Jongin stops him by throwing a pillow at his back.

“Stay,” he says. “This house is too damn big, it always feels as though there’s no one around.”

Sehun looks at him knowingly. Jongin refuses to meet his eyes.

 

 

 

  
They remain in the den for hours, Jongin marathoning as many Harry Potter movies as possible while Sehun sits and watches patiently.

“So how long have you been alive?”

The credits for the fourth movie are rolling, and Jongin’s sprawled out on the couch. Sehun hums in thought.

“Three and a half centuries?”

Jongin chokes on a popcorn kernel.

“ _What?!_ ”

“I’m not an old demon,” Sehun says, slightly affronted.

“You’re old as shit,” Jongin deadpans. “But then again, I guess time is all relative.”

Jongin loads the next movie and settles back into his seat.

“How does one become a demon?”

“There are two ways. You can either be born as a demon – which is very rare –, or you can ask to be changed into one after the completion of a Faustian contract. Demons who have been changed make up at least 85% of the demon population.”

“Which one are you?”

“I was changed.”

Curious, Jongin leans forward.

“I made a deal with a demon; if she’d help me take revenge on those responsible for my parents’ deaths, then she could have my soul. She took great joy in her… duty, and went above and beyond to make sure I was satisfied. Then, just as she was about to consume my soul, she managed to convince me to change. She said that I would be able to make sure those who deserved it would die. Of course, now that I look back on it, all she did was take advantage of my desperation for revenge. Not every person who forms a contract wants revenge – at least, not the bloody kind.”

“Why did she want you to change?”

“There’s a hierarchy in Hell,” Sehun says, stretching out his legs. “The more demons you recruit, the more respected you are.”

Jongin raises his eyebrows. Sehun laughs.

“Yeah, I don’t really understand it either.”

“So how many demons are there roaming about out there?”

Sehun smiles mischievously. “That’s a statistic I probably shouldn’t share.”

Rolling his eyes, Jongin pops a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“What’s it like? Being a demon, eating souls.”

“It can be quite boring,” Sehun admits. “Sometimes there aren’t any contracts to be forged, so we end up settling for mediocre souls. You know, druggies that die slowly in alleys or unfortunate victims of car accidents. But when we’re bound to a human… that’s usually much more fun.”

“Are you guys immortal?”

“Mostly. The only thing that can kill us are blades from Heaven made specifically for demonkind. They take a century to forge, however, so there aren’t many of them in existence.”

“Does every demon have red nails and eyes and stuff?”

“Not at all. We would be horribly easy to spot if that was the case, wouldn’t we?”

Jongin munches on another mouthful of popcorn thoughtfully.

“Have you ever fallen for a contractee?”

“Up till this day, a demon in love is something unheard of.”

 

 

 

  
Things slowly turn stagnant. Neither of them are able to find any leads on the man who purportedly has ties with the Vipers, and the poor dishes take the brunt of Jongin’s frustrations.

It doesn’t help that Jongin seems to have landed himself a spot on someone’s kill list. He’d stepped out on his balcony one day for a smoke, only to have the cigarette shot out from between his fingers and into a million shreds. Sehun, having heard the first shot from the other side of the house, sprinted over and yanked a surprised Jongin back into the room.

“Stay down,” Sehun had instructed, before he stepped back out onto the balcony and jumped off the edge, sword materialising in his hands. The demon had returned without a scratch, of course, but he hadn’t been able to extract any information from the sniper before he had killed himself.

Ever since that day, Jongin’s been banned from being outside of the protective walls of his house without Sehun’s presence. Sehun found a bomb strapped to the bottom of his car’s body not long after, and there was an incident involving a multitude of trip wires connected in a complicated web all over the property.

“Someone really wants you dead,” Sehun comments one night. He scans the grounds for signs of any intruders before drawing the curtains and dimming the lights.

“Probably the same asshole behind my kidnapping,” Jongin mutters, taking a large gulp from his glass of whiskey. Liquid fire burns down his throat, and he relishes in it.

Leaning against the wall, Sehun observes the young (ex?) gang leader. He takes in the faintly glowing Faustian mark beneath the open halves of Jongin’s shirt, the large scar running up the side of Jongin’s torso, the tense set of his jaw.

“Hey. Does revenge feel satisfying?”

Pulling on the elastic holding his ponytail in place, Sehun shakes out his hair as he mulls over the loaded question. Silver cascades down his shoulders in faint waves, and Sehun looks up to see Jongin staring intently at him.

“It does, for a moment,” Sehun finally answers, taking off his gloves. He sets them down on the desk, alongside his hair elastic. His eyes gradually fade back to their natural red.

“But?” Jongin presses, knees hitched up to his chest. His empty glass of whiskey sits precariously on the edge of the table.

“But it doesn’t last,” Sehun says. He shrugs off his jacket and unbuckles his belt.

He’s been sleeping – well, resting – in Jongin’s room since the start of the attempts on his life, usually spending his time lying on the couch Jongin currently occupies, eyes closed but very much awake.

It’s well past midnight, and the house is quiet.

“Why not?” Jongin’s voice is small, but his eyes remain resolutely trained on Sehun’s face.

Sehun rids himself of the rest of his clothes and pulls on a pair of pyjama pants.

Settling into the armchair next to Jongin, he sighs.

“Because revenge doesn’t undo the pain. It doesn’t bring back what was lost.”

“Will it help me forget?”

Sehun lets his head fall back. “Probably not.”

Laughing dryly, Jongin does the same. “So why am I doing this?”

“Gives you a reason to continue living for a little while longer.”

Jongin reaches out and places his palm over the seal on Sehun’s bare chest – it illuminates at the contact. Sehun doesn’t react to the touch, and for a few minutes, neither of them utter a single syllable.

“You’re very warm,” Jongin quips.

“Well, I do come from Hell,” Sehun replies, amused. Jongin snorts.

Twisting around in his seat for better access, Jongin spends a moment tracing the intricate design with his forefinger.

“It’s weird,” Jongin mumbles, brows furrowed in thought, “but it feels… safe. To be marked by your seal. Makes me feel invulnerable.”

“There are much more powerful demons out there,” Sehun says, eyes slitted as he gazes down at the hand on his chest. “Much more powerful seals you could have.”

“Yours is enough,” Jongin says, so quietly that if it weren’t for Sehun’s extra-sensitive hearing, he probably wouldn’t have caught it.

After another heartbeat or two, Jongin retracts his hand and stands.

“It’s late, I’m going to sleep.”

Sehun hums and remains seated as Jongin changes into his pyjamas and climbs into bed.

Hours later, Jongin’s deeply asleep, and Sehun’s still in the armchair. The feeling of Jongin’s fingers doesn’t stop sending tingles throughout his skin.

 

 

 

Autumn’s beginning to set in, turning leaves into a shade of red that pales to that of Sehun’s eyes. The winds are a little chillier, skies a little gloomier, and night comes a little faster.

Jongin wakes up one day to the loud echo of a shotgun.

“What the f –”

“Good morning,” Sehun’s voice says, melodic and soothing. “Don’t worry about that, the others are just taking care of some pests out there.”

Another shot rattles Jongin’s ears.

“It’s so fucking _loud_ –”

“Sorry, sir, but shotguns are quite obnoxious.” Chanyeol sticks his head around the door to the balcony and waves sheepishly. A belt of bullets are draped over his shoulder.

Jongin sighs and slumps back into his pillows.

“People are still coming for me?”

“Seems like it, yes. This time, it’s a group. Hard for me to deal with them without people noticing my abilities, so I’ve asked the rest of them to help. They’re doing quite well, I must say.”

“Capture one of them,” Jongin mutters, an arm resting over his eyes.

“Already done. Yixing shot one with a tranquiliser dart. He’s being kept in the basement. Baekhyun’s having quite a bit of fun with him down there.”

Before Jongin can answer, Chanyeol steps back into the bedroom, whistling merrily. The shotgun’s resting against his shoulder, the metal glinting in the light.

“This side is all clear!” He bows grandly. “I’ll go see if Kyungsoo needs some help.”

The door swings shut behind the man’s enthusiastic departure – complete with a double-handed wave –, and Jongin looks at Sehun bemusedly.

“He’s a very chipper person,” Sehun informs him, tossing Jongin a shirt. “Get dressed. We should head downstairs before Baekhyun 'accidentally' beheads the guy.”

 

 

 

  
Jongin’s only ever been in the basement once. The dampness of the walls and the vast silence of the empty space brought back bad memories – since then, whenever he passes by the door leading to the basement, he’ll pick up his pace.

Right now, he finds himself hesitating.

“There’s no need to be afraid if I’m around,” Sehun murmurs, a strong, gloved hand pressing against the small of Jongin’s back. “No one will get to you if you’re with me. I’m the only one who can have you, remember?”

With that, Sehun steps forward and opens the door.

Jongin follows his demon down the stone stairs, heart fluttering in his throat with every step. When they round the corner, however, Jongin promptly forgets about the aversion he has for the basement. There’s a bloody man tied to a chair, and Baekhyun’s circling him, thumbing at the sharp edge of a clean dagger. There’s a collection of bloodied daggers behind him on the cold floor.

“Ah, Mr. Boss Man.”

Jongin blinks. “Please don’t call me that.”

Baekhyun giggles.

“What… were you doing?”

“Slowly chipping away at his will,” Baekhyun says lightly, spinning the dagger between his fingers. “I think it’s working quite well!”

Jongin steps forward and grips the man by his chin. A yank, and the man’s forced to look up at Jongin’s face with a busted eye and a mouth missing half its teeth.

“Who sent you?”

“Don’t know,” he croaks. A blood bubble bursts at the corner of his mouth.

Just as Jongin opens his mouth to press further, Sehun steps in with a hand on his shoulder.

“Let me. I can be quite persuasive.”

Jongin turns to look at Sehun – a shiver runs down his spine at the sight of his scarlet eyes.

 

 

 

  
He paces up and down the hallway, arms crossed around his chest and eyes trained on the door leading to the basement. Not a single sound escapes from behind the heavy door, but there’s a ton of noise coming from a room down the hall. He can hear Baekhyun and Chanyeol howling in laughter as Kyungsoo curses loudly at them. Yixing, he guesses, is probably nose deep in formulating another type of poison.

The door swings open after almost an hour.

“He didn’t lie,” Sehun says, emerging from the darkness. Jongin catches sight of a few wisps of black smoke before they dissipate. Sehun’s ponytail is messier than usual, but apart from that, there’s no discernible sign that he’s just finished torturing a man to death.

“What?”

“He doesn’t know who hired him. They corresponded over disposable phones, and the only glimpse he had of the man was through a tinted car window. There is one piece of information he was able to provide, however. The man has a childishly drawn tattoo of a setting sun on the side of his neck.”

Frowning, Jongin takes a few steps forward, stopping by a large window.

“So we just have to search –”

“ _Don’t stand by the windows!_ ”

He feels something rip at his flesh at the same time he feels Sehun run right into him.

 

 

 

  
“Stop nagging,” Jongin mutters, wincing as Sehun dresses his wound. The extracted bullet lies on the beside table, still clamped between a pair of medical forceps. A needle rests next to it.

“How many times have I told you not to stand next to the damn windows?” Sehun demands, looking up from Jongin’s torso. The bullet had gone straight through Jongin’s side, narrowly avoiding hitting any vital organs.

“Yeah yeah,” Jongin sighs. “I was distracted, alright?”

Sehun simply lets out a _tch_ , and goes back to dressing Jongin’s wound.

“Hey,” Jongin begins, reaching out with a hand to lightly grab at Sehun’s ponytail. “If I die at someone else’s hands, do you still get my soul?”

Sehun’s hands pause. Jongin tugs on the ponytail.

“If that happens, your soul becomes essentially… free-for-all. If I’m the first demon that gets to you, then yes, I get your soul. But I am not guaranteed your soul, as your death was not a result of our contract.”

“Would you be sad if you lost my soul?”

“It would be regrettable. After all, I’ve spent quite some time cultivating it.”

“How long has it been?”

“About eight months.” Sehun sets down the scissors and stares at the bandages.

Jongin pulls the elastic off Sehun’s ponytail and buries his fingers in the silvery locks.

“How do you take someone’s soul?”

Sehun raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. Jongin tightens his grip; it doesn’t hurt the demon, but something flickers in his eyes.

“Whenever it’s just you and I, feel free to let your eyes change back to their natural colour. I like the red.”

Sehun shifts a little, head tilting towards Jongin, giving the man freer access to his hair.

“Alright,” he says.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Sehun runs his tongue over the swell of his bottom lip.

“With a kiss.”

The corner of Jongin’s mouth tilts up.

“Show me.”

 

 

 

  
Lithe fingers stay curled into Sehun’s hair as the demon rises out of his chair and hovers over Jongin, hands on either side of Jongin’s face. The human’s eyes are lidded, pupils dilated, and they’re staring very intently at Sehun’s mouth.

“You can’t take my soul now, right? It’s against the contract.”

Sehun simply nods, and Jongin smiles slightly. At this point, their noses are mere inches apart.

“Do you want to taste it?” Jongin whispers, pushing Sehun’s bangs out of his face. “I’ll let you taste it. You must be hungry after so many months.”

  
“Those pain meds are making you a little delirious,” Sehun says, voice rough. “You should rest.”

Jongin huffs, breath fanning across Sehun’s face – the demon immediately tenses at the scent of Jongin’s soul. Those fingers in his hair press against his scalp knowingly.

“I’m offering you a taste; shouldn’t you be jumping at that opportunity?”

“If you really want me to do this, you’d ask when you’re not high off your mind,” Sehun tells him, reaching up to hold onto Jongin’s wrists. With a firm push, Sehun manages to extract those tantalising fingers from his hair.

Jongin rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t start an argument as Sehun tucks him in, and he doesn’t say a single word as Sehun leaves the room to fix the shattered window and make another round around the grounds.

By the time Sehun’s back in Jongin’s room, the latter is already sound asleep.

 

 

 

  
It’s late into the next day when Jongin finally comes back to his senses. As the pain medication wears off, the pain itself flares into life. He wakes up to a fiery throb in his side, and pain spreads everywhere like liquid needles when he tries to sit up.

“Don’t move,” Sehun chides, striding into the room with a basin and a washcloth. “You might rip the stitches.”

Jongin lies back down, hand flying down to his wound instinctively.

“Don’t touch, either.” Sehun pushes Jongin’s hand away and sets the basin down.

Unwrapping the bandage, Sehun inspects the wound to make sure infection hasn’t set in and that the stitches are holding up. Satisfied, he takes off his gloves and dips the washcloth into the basin of warm water.

“I’m just going to clean you up a little; I don’t recommend showering for a couple of days just in case you pop a stitch or slip on the tiles from pain.”

Jongin is quiet as Sehun wipes him down a few times, touch extra gentle around the wound. When he’s done, he passes Jongin a toothbrush (with toothpaste already squeezed out onto the bristles), and leaves to empty the basin in the sink. He returns with a tall glass of water and the empty basin; Jongin rinses out the toothpaste into it. At this point, Jongin still hasn’t uttered a word.

When Sehun returns from his second trip to the bathroom, sans the basin, Jongin gestures for him to step closer to his bedside. Encircling Sehun’s wrist with his fingers, Jongin finally speaks.

“Taste me.”

Red floods into Sehun’s eyes instantly.

“That’s not a smart suggestion.”

“I’m going to die at some point,” Jongin mutters, “and you’ll be the one to kill me. And you’re telling me it’s not a smart suggestion?”

“Yes.”

An impatient noise leaves Jongin’s throat, and the hand around Sehun’s wrist flies up to grab the demon by his neck. With more force than Sehun had anticipated, Jongin yanks Sehun’s head down to meet his. Sehun has to place a knee between Jongin’s legs to stabilise himself, lest he falls onto Jongin’s torso.

Sehun resists until the very end, but the second their lips touch, something seizes in Sehun’s mind. He pins both of Jongin’s hands over his head with one hand, the other by Jongin’s ear, holding his weight. The sharp tips of his nails dig into Jongin’s flesh, but neither seem to care.

Pliant lips part willingly, and Sehun has never felt his resolve disappear so quickly in his life.

His canines lengthen, and he tries not to nick Jongin’s bottom lip when he pulls it into his mouth. But despite his best efforts, he still manages to draw blood. Like nectar to bees, Sehun is instantly addicted to the taste, and he swipes his tongue over the small puncture wounds over and over again. Jongin strains futilely against Sehun’s hold on his wrists; Sehun simply renders him boneless with a lick into his mouth. Without the overwhelming taste of Jongin’s blood, he can finally taste the soul. It’s indescribable.

When Jongin sucks on Sehun’s tongue, the demon moans, loud and deep.

The sound seems to shock some sense back into Sehun, and he forces himself to pull away. Jongin doesn’t fight it; instead, he smirks, lips kiss-swollen.

“How’d it taste?”

  
Sehun doesn’t straighten, doesn’t release Jongin’s wrists from his grip, doesn’t look up into Jongin’s face. He keeps his head hung, hair tumbling like liquid starlight onto Jongin’s chest.

“Your blood is addicting, but your soul… god, your soul. With it, I wouldn’t need to feed for a long, long time.”

 

 

 

  
Over the next few weeks, Sehun sends the four employees out to all the tattoo parlours in Seoul and neighbouring cities to ask if they’ve inked a small sunset on someone’s neck. While they’re out, Sehun spends his time with his tongue in Jongin’s mouth, Jongin’s now-familiar fingers running through his hair.

After every make out session, Sehun’s left with an ache in his stomach and a tingling sensation on his tongue. He’s always thirsty, too, but instead of quenching it with animal blood, he chooses to settle for litres and litres of lukewarm water.

“Demons don’t need to drink water,” Jongin comments one day, looking on in amusement as Sehun drains an entire bottle in one go. Sehun simply fixes him with a glare, mussed hair curling around his shoulders.

“Are you upset that you can’t kill me before the contract is fulfilled?”

“No,” Sehun answers easily, setting the empty bottle down. “Your soul would taste even better with patience. And I’d get punished for doing so, anyway.”

“I promise I’ll be the most delicious meal you’ll ever have,” Jongin says, stretching languidly. His wound’s healing well, and he’s been able to move about like usual.

“I don’t doubt it.”

With that, Sehun grabs Jongin by the chin and pulls his face up towards his own. Jongin grins against Sehun’s lips; with a hand, he pushes Sehun back down onto the couch and straddles his lap.

“You’re pretty damn good with your mouth,” he comments, toes curling as Sehun kisses him deeper.

“I’ve had centuries of practice,” Sehun mumbles, humming as Jongin runs his tongue along the sharp points of his canines.

“I imagine you must’ve had your tongue down hundreds of throats,” Jongin says, before proceeding to stick his own tongue down Sehun’s throat. At that, Sehun wants to laugh.

“I don’t like to kiss and tell,” Sehun replies, breaking the kiss and nosing his way down Jongin’s neck. “But honestly, the number isn’t as big as you think it is.”

Jongin lets his head loll backwards, his grip on Sehun’s hair tightening when a hot tongue runs from the base of his throat up to his chin.

“Why not? I find it a little hard to believe that people weren’t throwing themselves at you.”

“They did,” Sehun says, lightly scraping the skin over Jongin’s jugular vein with his fangs. “But I’m picky.”

“Have you slept with everyone you’ve kissed?”

Sehun smirks against the curve of Jongin’s shoulder.

“No; I’m even more picky when it comes to... carnal pleasures.”

“So if I wanted to fuck you,” Jongin says slowly, ducking his head to suck on Sehun’s earlobe, “would you let me?”

“Depends on the reason behind that request,” Sehun answers, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

“Because you’re hot.”

Sehun chuckles. “That’s not the actual reason, is it?”

Jongin bites a little harder.

“Because I want to come in someone hot before I die,” Jongin deadpans.

A blood red nail trails up Jongin’s side; he shivers.

“Alright, Kim Jongin. I’ll let you fuck me before you die.”

 

 

 

  
Sehun’s nose deep in a book when he hears the faintest knock on Jongin’s bedroom door. Pulling on his gloves, he gets up and walks over quietly, making sure to avoid the one squeaky spot on the hardwood floors.

“Yixing?”

“I found your man,” Yixing whispers. He holds up a folded sheet of paper. “He’s currently in Busan, but he’ll be flying off to Thailand in three days. His address in Busan is written down here.”

“Thank you,” Sehun replies, accepting the paper. “Good job.”

Yixing gives him a dimpled smile and bows before disappearing down the hallway.

 

 

 

  
In the morning, Sehun wakes Jongin up with a bruising kiss. Jongin doesn’t even get the chance to react before Sehun’s no longer right in front of him; insteads, he’s bustling about the room, setting up Jongin’s morning routine.

“Get up. We’re going to Busan.”

“Huh?” Jongin groans, eyes screwed shut against the sudden influx of sunlight as Sehun yanks the curtains open.

“Yixing found our guy. He’s holed up in Incheon and should be there for a couple of days, but in case he gets wind of the fact that you’re after him and books it, we should get there as soon as possible.”

Pushing the covers aside, Jongin swings his legs out of bed and stands. Much more alert now that he can finally go ahead with his revenge, Jongin makes a beeline for the bathroom. He washes up and changes in ten minutes – Sehun himself is waiting by his door, dressed in his impeccable suit, hair in its impeccable ponytail, demonic being tucked away in its impeccable shell of a human body.

On the way out, Jongin grabs his trusty handgun and silencer. Wordlessly, Kyungsoo tosses him a couple of spare magazines.

“You guys are in charge here,” Jongin says, “feel free to have fun if anyone comes looking for trouble.”

Baekhyun and Chanyeol exchange grins.

 

 

 

  
“Did you conjure this car out of thin air as well?”

  
The matte black Mercedes C3000 weaves in and out of traffic, Sehun barely needing to look in his mirrors to navigate through the streets. A hint of a smile appears on that handsome face; that’s enough of an answer for Jongin.

When they hit the highway, Jongin slips on his shades and turns the music up a little louder. Sehun slides the sunroof open, and Jongin reaches over to release Sehun’s hair from their bindings. Leaning back in his seat, he watches the wind whip through the strands.

“You seem to like my hair an awful lot,” Sehun comments. Despite being the driver, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by locks of hair fluttering into his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s really nice to look at. Feels like silk, too. The colour complements your skin; makes you look like an angel, ironically.”

“Demons aren’t evil by nature,” Sehun says. “That said, there are a select few that live for death and destruction, in addition to souls. Moreover, it’s frowned upon to kill humans just to consume their souls. Some do, of course, but most of us wait until a human dies of natural causes or is killed by another human. Same goes for a contract – it’s a fair trade, and if we break that, we’ll get punished.”

Jongin nods absently, foot tapping to the beat of the EDM song blasting from the radio.

“Tell me something about yourself.”

Sehun glances over. “What do you want to know?”

Shrugging, Jongin closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling of the breeze on his face. “Anything.”

“... Well, as a human, I wore glasses.”

There’s a slight commotion as Jongin scrambles to sit up – the sudden movement causes his sunglasses to slip off the bridge of his nose and fall into the gap between the seat and the center console.

“You wore glasses?”

Sehun turns to look Jongin square in the eyes. Silver breezes across his face. He smirks. With a snap of his fingers, a pair of glasses appear on Jongin’s lap. Without needing to be prompted, Jongin slides them onto Sehun’s nose. He exhales in wonderment.

“You look like… a hot professor.”

“Oh?” Sehun’s eyes are back on the road, but Jongin doesn’t miss the glimmer in those ruby reds.

“What subject do you specialise in, sir?” Jongin drawls, head lolling to the side. He peers up at Sehun through his lashes.

“Whatever you want to learn most,” Sehun responds, tapered fingers resting on the gearstick.

“Tell me how you like your dick blown.”

“Have you never sucked dick, Kim Jongin?”

“No,” Jongin shrugs. “I’ve only been with women. I’ve never really felt the need to sleep with a man until your fucking attractive face showed up. Are all demons this hot?”

Sehun laughs. “Not all. Most are decently attractive though, I must say. It must be the beautification effects of sins.”

“Answer my first question.”

“Well, how do you like your dick blown?”

Jongin mulls over the answer. “I don’t know; probably the way you do it. You look like you’d be good at it.”

Sehun’s lips part slightly in a suppressed grin; Jongin shivers at the sight of his canines and something stirs in the pit of his belly.

“Hey,” he says, sitting up a little straighter. “Would my come taste like my soul?”

“There will be traces of it, yes. But it won’t taste exactly the same.”

Jongin pops the button of his jeans. “Say, Professor – can I conduct an experiment?”

“Sure,” Sehun says easily, as if he has no idea what Jongin’s up to. He doesn’t react as Jongin unbuckles his seatbelt and pushes his jeans and underwear down to his ankles. He’s half-hard; Sehun can already smell his arousal.  
Two fingers push against Sehun’s lips.

“Suck.”

Sehun parts his lips willingly and welcomes Jongin’s fingers into his mouth. He works his tongue over and around the digits, suction perfect. Jongin watches with an open mouth and lidded eyes. By the time he pulls his fingers out of Sehun’s mouth, his dick’s fully hard and curving towards his navel.

Running his spit-slicked fingers up and down his shaft, Jongin melts into the seat and sighs in pleasure. Hips roll languidly into a fist, and Sehun swallows.

“The windows aren’t tinted.”

“Ah, really?” Jongin rubs at his slit and lets out a moan. “I hope whoever sees me likes dick.”

Jongin’s knees fall apart a little more, and a second hand joins the first between his legs.

“Will rubbing my hole feel good, demon?”

“Probably,” Sehun answers, foot pressing down on the accelerator. Jongin grins.

He collects a few drops of precum on a forefinger and reaches down to rub at his entrance. Sehun looks over just in time to see Jongin’s dick twitch at the sensation, and he nearly jerks the wheel a little too hard to the right.

“Don’t come for the next ten minutes,” Sehun orders, speeding up just a little more.

Jongin simply tugs on his dick and smiles a little wider.

 

 

 

  
They’re parked at the very end of the rest stop, and Jongin’s pressed up against the hood of the car, sunglasses back on his face as he leans back, pants around his ankles. Sehun’s got a hand on Jongin’s hip, his sheer strength preventing Jongin from bucking up into his mouth.

“You taste like fucking candy,” he mutters, hot tongue lapping up the never ending stream of precum leaking from Jongin’s dick.

“Don’t eat too much candy,” Jongin says, breathless. “You might get cavities.”

“Demons don’t get cavities,” Sehun replies, before taking Jongin in all the way to the base. His throat pulses around Jongin’s dick, and when he pulls back, tongue flicking across the glans, Jongin comes with a shudder.

Sehun swallows every single drop, and his eyes are hellfire when he straightens, Jongin’s dick slipping out of his mouth. He wipes his lips with the back of his gloved hand and tucks Jongin back into his pants.

“So? What’s it taste like?”

“Wonderfully sinful,” Sehun replies, gripping supple thighs. “I could milk you all day. You’d make a great demon; your sins fit you like a glove.”

 

 

 

  
“My first kill was when I was twelve,” Jongin says, staring out the window as they speed down the highway. Colour blur into one another; it’s like he’s gazing at a painting in progress.

“Some thug beat up Jongdae really badly, and I rammed a screwdriver into his ear.”

Sehun listens without uttering a word.

“You’d think that my parents would punish me for that, yeah? But no, my dad recruited me to join his gang. I was the youngest recruit; Jongdae wouldn’t join for another three years. My mum – ah, I still remember the smile on her face when she heard what I did. She was so proud of me for standing up for family.

“I realised that something was wrong with me when my parents were murdered by their right hand man; all I could think of was revenge. I never mourned them. I never shed a tear, not even when I watched their coffins sink into the muddy ground. The satisfaction I felt when I squeezed the life out of him a few days later… I was never able to replicate it.”

He chuckles dryly and rubs at his neck.

“Growing up, I always thought Jongdae would be the only one in our family with a normal life. As a child, he was the one with good grades, the one who made smart choices. He never chugged an entire bottle of hot sauce at the age of nine like I did. But I guess you can’t really go back to ‘normal’ after seeing everything we’ve seen and done. I once slept with his girlfriend, did you know? Well, I didn’t know they were together. Turns out she was using him to get to me. But he blamed me for it, obviously. We grew apart, and the rift between us widened even more when my businesses started to flourish before his. I ended up passing one of my businesses to him just so he wouldn’t set my house on fire out of spite. That’s why he’s so fucking rich now – drugs bring in a fuck ton of money. And to think that fucker hasn’t bought me a meal in eight years.”

Sehun gets off the highway on the next exit.

“Do you regret getting into gangs?”

Jongin sighs.

“Almost every damn day.” He closes his eyes. “But it’s who I am now. It’s what I do now. I kill, I lie, I bribe, I con. I’m not a good person by any means.”

“You aren’t defined solely by your actions,” Sehun remarks, making a left turn. “When you’re staring death in the eyes, will you wish to repent?”

Frowning, Jongin looks down at his hands and doesn’t answer.

 

 

 

  
The hideout is, unsurprisingly, nondescript.

“Wait in the car,” Sehun says. “I’m going to do a little recon.”

And so Jongin waits, staring absently at the sunset in the horizon. At some point, he hears a few gunshots and crashes as things collide with each other, but he doesn’t move an inch. It’s only when he sees Sehun stick his head out of the door and crook a finger in his direction does he exit the car.

There’s blood on every surface imaginable.

“Where are the bodies?”

“Apparently the grim reapers in this area are very efficient,” Sehun comments, leaning against a clean spot on the wall.

“How were the souls?”

“I don’t eat any other souls when I’m bound by a contract,” Sehun says, narrowing his eyes. “You know that.”

Jongin simply quirks an eyebrow and looks down at the man bound to a table with duct tape. Pinching the man’s jaw between his thumb and forefinger, Jongin twists the man’s head to the side. The shitty tattoo shines up at him through streaks of drying blood.

“You. You’re the one who’s been sending fuckers over to my place to kill me,” Jongin sneers. “Why?”

“I was told to,” is the pained response.

“By which asshole?”

“I can’t say,” the man groans. “If I do, he’ll kill my family.”

“If you don’t, _I_ will kill your family,” Jongin hisses. He presses the heel of his hand into a fresh sword wound, long and deep across the abdomen, and the man screams until his voice breaks. Sehun looks on in silence.

“So either way,” Jongin continues, voice dripping with venom, “your family will die. What will it be, asshole? Here, I’ll make you a deal – the faster you tell me, the less I’ll make them suffer.”

The man looks up at him with desperation.

“He – _fuck_ – his name is –”

“I’ll even let you call them and say goodbye,” Jongin adds, looking back at Sehun. The demon simply returns the gaze. There’s a red tint in those irises, however, and it doesn’t escape Jongin’s attention.

“Kim Minseok,” the man grits. “His name is Kim Minseok.”

Jongin’s grip on the man falters.

 

 

 

  
For once in his life, Jongin absolutely has no idea how to proceed.

He spends a week holed up in his room, a glass of hard liquor constantly present in his hand. He doesn’t speak to anyone, and when he does choose to talk, it’s only to Sehun for when he needs something.

Jongin stays in this funk until Sehun literally slaps it out of him. A hard whack to the back of his head has him rounding on the silver-haired demon with fury, but Sehun catches Jongin’s flying fist with ease.

“This. This is what I want; this anger. Harness it. Use it. Don’t sit around and mope just because your family’s a piece of shit. You said it yourself, didn’t you? You’re not a good person. Assholes don’t care if it’s their parents who hurt them – an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. Isn’t that how you should be thinking? Your friend died; you were tortured and humiliated beyond belief. They did all that to you, without regrets, and here you are feeling sorry for yourself?”

“How do you know that he’s behind the kidnapping?” Jongin demands, voice rough with lack of use.

“While you drank your sorrows away, I was out doing my job. Let’s just say that the grim reapers in this city have had to work overtime while I was out. I know everything that transpired.”

Jongin glares bitterly at the empty glass sitting on the edge of his desk. Just ten minutes ago, it held three fingers of whiskey.

“If you want this contract to end –”

“Who do I have to kill?”

Sehun smiles.

 

 

 

  
His cousin’s penthouse is excessively lavish. Kim Minseok, along with his brother Kim Junmyeon, run an extensive underground black market network. Jongin himself has even used the network several times to set up trade deals. Because so many different business operate through this network, Minseok and Junmyeon are filthy rich. They could take a bath in a tub full of money every day of the week for a year and they’d still have more than enough money.

There are only two penthouse units in this building, and the brothers each own a unit.

“Break it down,” Jongin mutters. Sehun promptly kicks the door down.

Inside the penthouse, Kim Minseok bolts upright from his reclined position on the leather couch, clad only in boxers and an undershirt. His front door flies right past him, and he manages to duck out of the way before the edge of the door takes his head off.

“ _What the fuck!_ ”

He scrambles for the gun he always keeps close by, but Sehun’s simply too fast for him. In an instant, Sehun’s got Minseok pinned to a wall, a gloved hand circled tight around his neck. The kicks Minseok lands on Sehun’s legs don’t seem to hurt even in the slightest.

“It would be in your best interest to stop struggling,” Sehun says politely. “Sometimes I misjudge my strength – I wouldn’t want to accidentally break your neck.”

Minseok stills. His fear-filled eyes flick from Sehun’s face to Jongin’s as the latter strolls into the room.

“Talk.”

Sehun squeezes Minseok’s neck once as a warning.

“I was acting on orders,” Minseok hurries to say. “I had nothing to do with the kidnapping. I only ordered the hits on you after.”

“I know,” Jongin says. “I know who used me. I know you do, too. I know everything you did. But what I don’t know is why.”

Minseok looks… confused. Heavy silence settles over the three of them as the cousins regard each other. After a few moments, Jongin sighs.

“You’re right. That’s a stupid question. The only thing you guys live for is money.”

With that, he raises his gun and shoots his cousin right between the eyes.

 

 

 

  
In the hallway, Jongin walks past Junmyeon’s door without pausing.

“I want him to live,” Jongin says. “He may have not done anything, but he didn’t stop anything either. He’s going to have to live knowing that his family killed one another because he failed to find the balls to do the right thing.”

The elevator arrives, and the second they’re inside, Sehun pushes the emergency stop button and shoves Jongin up against the wall. The handrail digs into the small of Jongin’s back, but Jongin barely registers the pain, too caught up in the feeling of Sehun’s lips moving incessantly against his own.

“The more you sin,” Sehun mumbles, licking into Jongin’s mouth, “the tastier you get. Every time I taste you, my hunger grows. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry in my life. You’re truly one in a million, Kim Jongin.”

“Smash the damn camera,” Jongin whispers, leaving small love bites down Sehun’s neck. He knows they’ll heal and disappear in a matter of minutes, but they’re nice to look at while they last.

A second later, the security camera’s no longer working, and Jongin’s got a leg between Sehun’s as gloved hands venture under his shirt.

“Will you let me fuck you in an elevator?” Jongin says, nipping at the shell of Sehun’s ear.

“I’d let you fuck me anywhere,” Sehun replies, grinding down onto Jongin’s thigh. “I want to experience the taint of corruption that flows within you.”

Jongin makes quick work of Sehun’s jacket, gloves, and hair tie. He tosses them into a corner, and they fumble with the buttons of their shirts as their lips work roughly against each other.

Once their shirts are crumpled on the floor, Sehun drops to his knees and unbuttons Jongin’s jeans. A red nail reaches up to flick at a pebbled nipple, and Jongin arches into the touch with a satisfied sigh.

Lips seal around the head of his dick the second it’s free from the confines of his jeans, and Jongin drinks in the sight of his hand in Sehun’s hair, the demon’s jaw slack as he takes Jongin in to the hilt.

“You look really good like this,” Jongin comments, “even better than usual.”

He tugs on Sehun’s hair and pulls out until just the tip of his dick remains in Sehun’s mouth – Sehun eases back on the suction and lets Jongin thrust into his mouth.

“This isn’t really what I had in mind when I said I wanted to fuck you,” Jongin grunts, brows furrowed as he fucks the demon’s mouth ruthlessly. Sehun has absolutely no gag reflex, and it’s fucking amazing.

Sehun leans back. Jongin’s slick erection swings back towards his stomach, leaving a thin line of precum on his skin.

“I know; I was just craving the taste of you.”

Jongin’s eyes dart down to where Sehun’s palming at himself through his trousers. The tent in his pants is impressive, to say the least

“Get up. Take your pants off.”

Rising to his feet, Sehun makes a show of unzipping his pants – the zipper snags on his erection, and he doesn’t even try to hide his smirk when he catches the look on Jongin’s face.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Jongin snaps, giving his dick a pump.

Sehun wastes an extra few seconds kicking his shoes off, and by the time he’s stark naked in all his devilish glory, Jongin’s close to bursting from impatience.

With a shove, Sehun’s back smacks into the elevator door, and Jongin sinks down to the ground, both hands coming up to wrap reverently around Sehun’s dick.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, “you’re fucking huge. Is this how big you were as a human?”

“Nah,” Sehun says. “Being a demon makes your dick a little bigger.”

Jongin snorts, lifting his eyes up to meet Sehun’s as his tongue darts out and laps at the leaking head.

“Fuck,” he groans, “you taste, ironically, heavenly.”

A breathless laugh escapes Sehun’s throat. Jongin proceeds to give his first ever blowjob – to a demon, no less –, hollowing his cheeks and running the flat of his tongue along the protruding vein like his life depends on it.

When his finger dips between Sehun’s (very sculpted) asscheeks and brushes against his hole, Sehun comes down Jongin’s throat with a muffled moan.

“So if I were to keep sinning,” Jongin says, standing up and licking a drop of come off his lip, “will I taste that good?”

“Probably,” Sehun breathes, letting Jongin spin him around. A pair of hands yank his hips back, and Sehun braces himself with his palms on the doors as Jongin bends over to lick a wet stripe up over his entrance.

“Just do it,” Sehun moans. “You won’t hurt me.”

“Fucking demons,” Jongin mutters, standing and lining himself up.

“Precisely.”

Jongin promptly shuts Sehun up when he pushes in. The second the head of his dick breaches the tight ring of muscle, the heat has him moaning. By the time he’s fully sheathed, Sehun’s already clamping down on him and rocking back into his hips.

“You’re so fucking warm,” Jongin groans, nails digging into Sehun’s flesh as he fights the urge to come right there and then.

“I come from hell,” is Sehun’s response.

“I’m going to hell,” Jongin mutters, finally regaining enough composure to start moving his hips. He doesn’t start off slow; instead, he sets a ruthless pace, fucking into Sehun with such primal drive that both are rendered speechless for the longest time.

Sounds of skin slapping against skin and broken moans fill the small space, and Sehun’s fingers are forming dents in the metal doors as he pushes back against Jongin for a deeper, better fuck.

Welts start forming where Jongin’s nails break through Sehun’s skin, and the brief moment of pain causes beads of precum to drip down to the floor.

“You’re fucking dripping,” Jongin says, voice pinched. He reaches around to fist Sehun’s cock, thumb swiping over the slick head.

Sehun answers with a loud moan – another wave of arousal smacks Jongin straight in the gut and he fucks into Sehun with renewed vigour.

Sehun rips out a large chunk of metal off of the door when he comes, walls holding Jongin deep inside him as his dick twitches in Jongin’s hand. A good amount of come lands on the floor, but enough lands on Jongin’s hand to coat a couple of fingers.

The second the taste of Sehun hits his tongue, Jongin climaxes, releasing deep into the still-quivering body beneath him.

The demon moans, back arching at the feeling of being filled.

“You,” Sehun pants, “are the Devil incarnate. There is no other explanation.”

Jongin laughs, sounding the lightest he’s been since the formation of their contract.

“And while I would like to remain like this for much longer,” Sehun continues, “I’m afraid we must get dressed. Someone’s called the fire department, and we’ll be discovered very soon if we don’t get out of here immediately.”

The second Jongin’s buttoned up his shirt, Sehun – already dressed –, opens the elevator doors with ease. They step back out onto the hallway and head for the stairs. Thirty floors below them, firefighters start flooding into the lobby. No one pays them any attention when they enter the lobby; the firefighters are too busy getting the elevator to move again.

 

 

 

  
“Once I kill him,” Jongin says, flopping down onto his bed, “our contract is fulfilled, right?”

“It is,” Sehun confirms, eyeing the man sprawled across the bed.

“Will you miss me?”

Sehun tilts his head. “I think I would, yes.”

Jongin opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling. “I’m quite hard to miss.”

“Perhaps to some people,” Sehun says.

At that, Jongin sits up.

“Do you think you’re selfish?”

“I’m selfish when I need to be,” is Sehun’s answer. “And very selfish when I want to be.”

Jongin doesn’t probe any further.

 

 

 

  
Confronting Jongdae turns out to be a lot less anticlimactic than anticipated.

It didn’t come as a surprise to Jongin when his arrival at Jongdae’s estate was greeted with a flurry of bullets. Sehun, of course, was able to deflect them all with the help of his sword – he’d even managed to slice a few bullets in half, much to the shock and terror of Jongdae’s men. With his sword in one hand, Sehun conjured a fan of daggers in the other. Each dagger, thrown with deadly precision, split the skin over pounding hearts. As Sehun battled with (unnecessary) flair and sharp metal, from behind the safety of the car, Jongin took out a fair number of men on his own, missing not a single shot.

When they’re finally able to enter the mansion, Jongin finds his brother waiting for him in the foyer, gun raised and poised to shoot.

“So setting up your own brother, ordering multiple hits on me, and inadvertently causing the death of my best friend isn’t enough for you? You want to be the one to kill me too?”

Jongdae’s lip curls as he glances over to Sehun, who’s standing just off to Jongin’s side.

“Your bodyguard is very adept at keeping you safe, isn’t he?”

“If I’m not good at what I do, I don’t deserve to have this job,” Sehun says pleasantly.

“I can pay you more than my brother does,” Jongdae says, gun still steadily trained at Jongin’s head. “Double? Triple? How much do you want?”

“I don’t work for money,” Sehun replies, tone suddenly serious. “I work for Jongin because there’s something I want that only he can give.”

Sneering, Jongdae waves his gun. “Well, he can’t give you shit if he’s dead, can he?”

A sly smile appears on Sehun’s face. “Oh, but he most certainly can.”

That statement throws Jongdae off, and his arm lowers fractionally. Jongin takes that moment to fire his own gun, bullet cutting through the air before landing in Jongdae’s wrist.

With a shout of pain, Jongdae drops the gun and cradles his shattered wrist to his chest.

“When Mom and Dad died,” Jongin says, taking a step forward and kicking the dropped weapon away, “I thought we would get closer; you know, considering we only had each other. But instead, you decided to forgo mourning our parents, decided to not learn from their mistakes. You wanted their notoriety, their money, the fear that they commanded. I was already fucked up by the time they died. But you had the ability to change our lives for the better. I would’ve gone with you, you know. But no, you wanted to be them. You wanted to be them so much that you distanced yourself from me. My dreams and aspirations weren’t big enough for you to keep me by your side – I would’ve pulled you down. So we grew apart.”

“Life is too short to live uncomfortably,” Jongdae grits. Blood pools at his feet; Sehun tries not to grimace at the scent. He can already tell that Jongdae’s soul is not suitable for his palate.

“I live comfortably,” Jongin says, “and I definitely don’t earn as much as you. Do you really need that much money to be happy with your life?”

“People who say that money can’t buy happiness are liars,” Jongdae spits.

“Maybe you and I have different definitions of what ‘happy’ truly means,” Jongin muses. “Granted, happiness isn’t something that’s in my dictionary any longer.”

A gunshot bounces off the lavishly decorated walls as the bullet itself bounces around in his brother’s head. Jongin lowers his gun at the same time Jongdae’s lifeless body topples over to its side.

“How do you feel?”

“Hollow,” Jongin answers. He looks over his shoulder at the demon. Sehun gives him an enigmatic smile; it drops before any semblance of sympathy is shown.

 

 

 

  
It’s almost two in the morning. The moon’s hanging low in the night sky.

They’re on the rooftop of a commercial building, Sehun’s wings a haunting frame around them. Sehun’s in his full demonic form; skin uncomfortably hot, pointed nails a few inches longer, scarlet eyes slitted. His fangs extend past his full bottom lip, and his hair is akin to moonlight pouring down his back, stopping just above the curve of his ass. On his feet are heeled boots, giving Sehun another few inches in his already impressive height. Black smoke unfurls all around them, shrouding the pair in darkness. The city fades from view.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Jongin jokes. His mouth feels a little dry.

Sehun cups the base of Jongin’s skull with both hands – his touch is unexpectedly cold.

As Sehun leans in, Jongin meets him halfway. When their lips meet, for a second, it feels as though it’s just another kiss. But then, Jongin feels a sharp tug on the pit of his stomach, as if he’s a fish and a fishing hook has just found its way into his belly. The pull gets stronger as Sehun kisses harder, and Jongin’s consciousness starts to fade away.

When they finally part, Jongin’s heart no longer beats. His soul, a sphere filled with glimmering shards, glows a dark purple. Sehun guides it up and out of Jongin’s throat, lets it hover in the air between them, and looks down at Jongin’s limp frame in his hands.

“There will be no reason to miss you,” he says quietly, gently pushing Jongin’s hanging head to one side, exposing his neck. His fangs, shining with spit, sink into Jongin’s jugular. He swallows a mouthful of Jongin’s blood before straightening and piercing his own wrist with his fangs. Nudging Jongin’s jaw open, he drops three drops of blood down Jongin’s throat.

The soul stays hovering in the air.

Sehun places Jongin down on the ground and waits patiently next to the floating sphere.

When the first scream of pain escapes Jongin’s lips, Sehun smiles and takes the soul into his mouth. The taste is absolutely divine. He swallows, and Jongin’s eyes fly open.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) 'Aesthetics' heavily inspired by Kuroshitsuji~  
> 2) Yes, the ending is written like that intentionally (i.e. Jongin being changed into a demon); so that I can return to this AU should I choose to.  
> 3) Sorry for painting the Kim Bros in a bad light :( I love them, I swear!  
> 4) I use 'Exodus' as a proper noun waaaay too often.  
> 5) I want to see Sehun with long, silvery hair tied up in a ponytail ;u;  
> 5.5) If anyone wanted to draw demon!sehun, I will love you forever.
> 
>  
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


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